


Six-O’Clock Sandwiches

by twopinchesofcinnamon



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Children, Gen, Pre-Apocalypse, Reginald’s A+ Parenting, Sandwiches, Vanya is a cinnamon roll, klaus gets doll heads stuck up his nose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 12:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18739225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twopinchesofcinnamon/pseuds/twopinchesofcinnamon
Summary: It's comforting to know that after an excruciating day of training, Vanya will be there with a sandwich and band-aids.Or: Six (possibly seven) times Vanya makes her siblings a sandwich.





	Six-O’Clock Sandwiches

**Author's Note:**

> here is a thing I made on a whim

**HAM AND CHEESE**

 

Luther's arms are likely going to fall off if he keeps going on like this.

See, Dad has opted to test his pain threshold in terms of weight lifting this time. It's the same grueling process every day—start easy (five hundred pounds minimum), and work until Luther can no longer take the aching fire chopping through his nervous system. Reginald has a machine meticulously lift each metal bar onto his back and arms, equally dispersing the burden across his deceptively small body. Dad says that whenever he cries "stop", they'll take a break for the evening.

But Luther's known to be a prideful person, so he doesn't enjoy admitting to anyone when the tons weigh too heavy on his teenage arms. In turn, he often finds himself lying in agony in his bedroom, trying to muffle his moans of pain in hopes of letting Allison sleep (don't worry, he makes sure to put up a lightly drowsy facade whenever his family members come by to check on him, which is not often).

Tonight is one of his worse nights.

Luther's biceps are swollen and red, and sweat coats his whole body in a shear shell. His breathing is ragged and uneven, his hair is sticky, and—god, his arms really hurt.

All he's done for hours is grunt and heave until his limbs can't anymore.

He's not about to ask Grace for ice or anything, because she'll tell Dad for sure, and Allison will just worry too much. She helps him sometimes, but it's not worth being lectured about his "overgrown ego". And there's no point in seeking out the others for help, as he's heard of whispers of what their training is like, and his sore muscles are nothing compared to that (one time, a couple of months ago, he worked up the courage to knock on Diego's door and ask him to slip downstairs and grab ice packs from the fridge, as Luther is far from the epitome of stealth. Diego simply looked at him for a second, pulled his shirt down far enough for Luther to see purpling bruises splattered around his neck and chest, and raised his eyebrows in a ‘deal with it’ sort of way. His brother slammed the door. Luther didn't go back for help from his siblings again).

So, he lays in pain, gazing at the worn posters on his wall and he can't pass out soon enough. After all, tomorrow is leg day, and he needs a least a small semblance of rest. He squeezes his eyes together, waiting hour-long minutes until the dark will overpower the stabbing between his tendons.

Luther almost misses the tentative knock at the door between his heavy breaths. Though, knock would be an overstatement. It's more like a _click, click_ that just barely makes it to his ears. He sits up in bed, the blankets pooling at his sides.

"Vanya?" He rubs his eyelids harshly and ignores the ever-present ache. "What do you want?"

He doesn't ask it in a mean or condescending way—he just needs sleep, and there's no time for his sister's games (she's always chased after them, eager to display her violin skills for her brothers and sister—almost like her very own power. Klaus and Ben used to be the ones to indulge her. The latter would gather supplies to form a makeshift stage made from the sturdiest dressers and a tablecloth, courtesy of Mom. Klaus would then slap on some kind of flamboyant accent, dancing across the stage to finally announce, "Vanya Hargreeves!" in such a loud voice that Five would pop in to tell them to shut up. Inevitably, Five would end up staying, and the three brothers would wait in the "audience" as little Vanya plucked heartily at Reginald's violin. Luther always watched from the doorway, only noticed by Five who—well, notices everything. He never joined, because he was expecting dad to call him downstairs. From what he gathered, performances started off shaky and uncoordinated, but slowly got better until they stopped altogether. Ben and Klaus' training regimen grew more intense, and Vanya began to isolate herself).

Luther doesn't see much of this sister anymore, and he got over that a long time ago.

So, her reason for interrupting him is a bit strange.

"I..." she shuffles her feet. "I brought you a sandwich."

She pulls both hands from behind her back. In one is a couple of oh-so enticing ice packs. In the other is exactly what she claimed—a ham and cheese sandwich.

Luther slides out of bed and swiftly approaches her. Vanya cowers a little, ducking until her bangs nearly cover her eyes. Tiny tremors runs through her dainty fingers.

Luther realizes offhandedly that he may have startled her with his sudden movement (he's never been particularly nice to Vanya. He never lets her in his room, and she annoys him sometimes, but he would never try to hurt her).

Backtracking, Luther does his best to smile, though the action is unfamiliar (that is, unless he's with Allison).

"Sorry, Vanya. Didn't mean to startle you."

Vanya glances up at him and nods. Luther vaguely feels bad for the way she seems to avoid speaking at all costs. He isn't sure if she's only like this around him, or if she's genuinely changed from the bright-eyed sister that he used to see scamper in the halls with his brothers.

They stand in silence until Luther clears his throat awkwardly, "Here, you can come sit."

He tosses a pillow off the bed and leads Vanya over, sitting and motioning for her to do so too.

Vanya carefully lowers herself onto the bed, and Luther takes the sandwich from her.

"Ham and cheese?" he questions, peeking between the bread to check for stray ketchup (everyone knows he hates ketchup). "My favorite."

Vanya grins sweetly, finally speaking, "Mom told me."

"Ah. Did you make it yourself?"

She nods.

"How did you know to bring ice packs?"

"Diego mentioned you were training. I happened to be near the fridge," she mutters, eyes glued to her shiny black shoes.

He bites into the sandwich, smiling involuntarily this time.

"Thank you, Vanya," he tells her, trying not to think about how this is the most he's interacted with his own sister in years.

A faint blush dusts itself across her pale cheeks, "Welcome."

Another silence ensues, but it's not as awkward anymore. At some point, Vanya leans her head on Luther's shoulder and he doesn't mention it. It's not like Allison, who nuzzles her head into his arm—all giggles and laughter. He wouldn't even know Vanya was there if all he had to go on was his sense of touch.

In no time at all, Luther finishes his sandwich, and the pain is still present, but not as much so as before.  

As if she can sense that he's done, Vanya stands. She pads over to the door and lays her hand on the frame. She tilts her head back for a moment.

"If you need me, Mom says I can use the bread whenever I want."

And then she's gone.

Luther lies back down, this time with ice packs covering his aching limbs.

He finds that on his worst days, a ham and cheese sandwich manages to ease the pain—if only a little.

***

 

**PEANUT BUTTER AND JELLY**

 

Diego is a sucker for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but he'll hold his breath for a lifetime before telling another living creature.

Thankfully, Mom isn't what one would consider living, so she knows all about his adoration for well-crafted PB&Js. In fact, she frequently uses his obsession to get him to actually do some of the stuff that Reginald orders of him, even if his father's training methods are nothing short of unconventional.

On this lovely morning, Reginald opts to experiment with the limits of Diego's breath-holding. Mom had to make two-and-a-half sandwiches to convince him not to break his window into dust and run the fuck away from here.

Dad leads Diego to his normal dreaded training spot: The Tank. It's ten feet tall and filled to the brim with water—the stuff of Number Two's nightmares.

Diego often wishes his abilities ended at knife-throwing (target training is much easier than the almost-but-not-quite-drowning and his personal least favorite: choking), but alas, God is cruel and unforgiving.

“Step in, Number Two.”

He yearns that the he could say the training goes by quickly—maybe that he enters a trance as his lungs stop contracting but never wilt.

He’s there for three hours, and it feels like three days.

“Same time tomorrow, Number Two,” his father’s voice sinks into his groggy brain as he trods into his room, sopping wet and on the verge of tears (which, thankfully, is hard to see through the streams of Tank water).

Diego wraps a towel around each limb on his body and places a dresser in front of his door (he doesn’t want to talk to Luther and Allison who lift weights and make wishes that come true. He doesn’t want to play with Klaus or Ben who’s training is a million times worse than a tank filled with water. Five is annoying and Vanya is awkward, so he locks himself inside. He would let Mom in, but she’s always with Pogo at this time of day).

Unfortunately, minutes after he lays down, someone knocks at the door.

“Fucking hell,” Diego groans softly, then louder, “Go away, Klaus! I don’t want to play dress up—I didn’t last week, I don’t now, and I doubt I ever will!”

Silence. Damn, he probably guessed wrong.

“Ben, then? Sorry for the yelling, buddy. I’m not in the mood to hang out right now. I taught you how to play solitaire last time, so entertain yourself. Or get Mom to play speed; she’s the one who taught me.”

More silence. Huh, normally it’s one of those two.

“Five? If it’s you I have no interest in doing a science experiment,” he rises, realizing he’s probably going to have to open the door, “I know it’s not dad, or Allison, or Luther, so which one of you fuckers is—“

He yanks the door open.

“—ah. Vanya.”

She waves her pale little fingers, visibly hiding amusement, “Hi, Diego.”

“Well,” he taps his foot, effectively (except not effectively at all) masking the shivers slicing across his skin, “W-What do you want?”

Vanya flinches at the harsh wording, opening and closing her mouth.

“Vanya,” Diego says a little more nicely, and lifts his hand in a ‘get on with it’ sort of way.

Vanya smiles softly, “I made you a sandwich.”

He raises an eyebrow, “What?”

She pulls a plastic baggie from behind her back, and lo and behold, there is a sandwich.

Diego squints suspiciously, “What kind?”

“Peanut butter and jelly,” she responds, pulling it out and parting the bread.

“No poison?”

“N-no?”

“Did Five put you up to this?”

“Um, no.”

“How’d you know I like peanut butter and jelly?”

“Mom told me.”

Diego analyzes his sister, sighs, and opens the door fully, “Fine, you can stay until I’m done eating.”

She sits and hardly says a word, but Diego actually doesn’t mind that much.

She eyes him until his very last bite (a little creepy, Diego can’t lie).

As soon as he’s finished, she keeps her word and moves to sprint out of the room.

He doesn’t stop her from leaving, but he does leave the door open just a crack.

The next morning, Diego taps his sister on the shoulder.

“Hey sis, next time, go a little heavier on the peanut butter. I won’t break.”

Vanya grins, and Diego does on the inside.

***

 

**HONEY AND BANANA**

 

Allison thinks her training is objectively the easiest of her siblings'.

She's roughly aware of Diego's Tank, Luther's weights, and whatever goes on with Ben and Klaus. Five hardly shows any fatigue or weakness, and Vanya is Vanya, but Allison would rather have an easy power to manage than nothing at all.

And, who is she kidding, Allison is proud of her rumors—more proud than she should be. She feels like she can do anything sometimes. She could save the world or end it with a couple of sentences. She secretly considers herself the most powerful member of the Umbrella Academy (like, what's the point of super strength or time travel if someone can use it to their own advantage? All Allison has to do is spread a rumor and the pieces fall right into place).

She just doesn't understand her father's way of testing the limits of her powers.

Currently, Allison is spreading rumors about how Luther secretly loves ketchup, and Reginald isn't even here. Pogo is the one who oversees most of her training (Luther tells her that this is a blessing, but Allison thinks she deserves some time under the tutelage of her own father).

This training method is supposedly designed to test if Allison can alter strong opinions (she can) of people who aren't in the room (she can).

Klaus says her training is to keep her away from her Prince Charming. It's possible, but Reginald has never been known to be petty; if anything, there's some underlying reason that Allison doesn't understand.

With the unknown motive in her mind, Allison struts out of training unbruised and bored out of her mind. She strolls past Klaus and Ben on the couch, hiding their chocolate indiscreetly (she never has figured out where they get that stuff. Luther speculates it’s Diego and his super sleuth skills, while Allison firmly believes it’s Five and his teleporting abilities).

Allison stops at her room to check her hair, and then moves to visit Luther’s room. Unusually, the door is open wide. She almost goes right in but stops when she hears a female voice.

“Luther, I told you! You’re supposed to hold the bow like this!”

“ _Vanya_?” Allison breathes, an unwarranted spike of jealously rearing its head (why is Vanya of all people in Luther’s room? She hardly interacts with anyone, and when she does, it’s Ben or Five—occasionally Klaus, but never Luther).

Allison peeks into the room, frankly shocked by what she sees.

Luther and Vanya are plopped right next to each other on the bed, both holding one of Dad’s practice violins. Vanya’s hands are fluidly plucking the strings and moving beautifully with the music she makes. Luther, however, succeeds in coaxing a few stray flats from his bow, only to stop to take a bite of his sandwich whenever he sounds vaguely okay.

In her trance of watching the two giggle and goof-off, her brother spots her.

“Allison?” Luther waves at her happily as Vanya sobers up, suddenly a lot less energetic.

She plasters a fake smile on her face, “Hi Luther! Vanya,” she nods at her sister.

Vanya waves and turns to Luther, “I guess I should go.”

Luther rubs his beck sheepishly, “Yeah, sorry. Same time on Wednesday?”

“Of course,” Vanya grabs the empty plates and creeps out of the room, crumbling under Allison’s biting gaze.

The door closes.

“I thought you found her annoying?” Allison asks Luther, almost accusatory.

“Yeah, well,” Luther pauses, “She’s my sister. Of course I find her annoying sometimes. But she’s actually been really great company. She always offers to make me a sandwich after a hard day of training.”

Allison crosses her arms and sits down next to her adopted brother, pouting, “I can make you a sandwich.”

Luther shakes his head, “Don’t worry, Allison. I’m not going to stop hanging out with you just because I’m talking to Vanya more. Plus, the only time we talk is on the worst days. I think she makes food for some of the others too. You should talk to her, she’d probably be happy to make something for you.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” she responds tightly.

And that is that.

Weeks pass and every once and a while, Allison stumbles across Vanya and Luther playing violin or piano along with twin sandwiches. She starts to notice the others too (Vanya and Klaus outside climbing trees with a sandwich; Vanya and Ben under the staircase with a pile of books and a sandwich; Vanya sneaking through the halls with a peanut butter and jelly, which everyone knows is Diego’s favorite sandwich).

Then, months go by, and Allison stops caring about Vanya, and begins to care about her training. It’s almost as if Reginald heard her complain about the easy nature of her classes and decided to start emotionally assaulting her for fun. Now, instead of speaking her rumors normally, she has to choke them out after running fifty laps around the school, or lifting her body weight (or, as much as she’d like to forget, after a minute-long trip to the Tank).

One day, after the latter form of training, Allison staggers into the kitchen only to find Vanya halfway through one of her sandwiches.

“Is that ketchup and peanut butter?” Allison questions incredulously through her drowsy haze.

Vanya laughs, embarrassed, “Yeah, Klaus and I have a thing going.”

Ah. Of course it it would be Klaus.

Allison watches Vanya for a while on one of the island chairs, but quickly dozes off.

When she wakes up, Vanya’s nowhere to be seen, but there is a hastily scrawled note and a honey and banana sandwich next to her arms.

_Luther told me it was your favorite. I’ll bring it to you next time._

_~Vanya_

 

Allison grabs the yellow plate and takes it to her room with a bubbly feeling in her heart.

 

***

 

**CUCUMBER MAYONNAISE EXTRAVAGANZA**

 

For the longest time, Klaus has hated sandwiches in every form they come in, and today is the fateful day where his opinion sways.

(Klaus was seven the first time Vanya sought him out and offered up a marshmallow monstrosity squished between two loaves of bread. He nearly vomited, and it wasn't from the training Dad had just subjected him to. A month or so later, Vanya popped back in with Grace's signature peanut butter and jelly. Klaus belched, thanking his sister, but tossing the thing in the trash. Over the years, it's become a sort of game between them. Every time Dad takes Klaus for a weirdly long "training session", Vanya brings him a new sandwich to try once he's back. There's was the series of tuna concoctions that Klaus hated with a passion. Or the vast number of jelly types that got too obscure for his liking. Seriously, dragonfruit is almost too much, even for him. Years have passed, but Vanya is yet to find that perfect combination).

He's only been in the mausoleum for three nights, and Reginald is taking a business trip (who knows where that bat-shit man is going for vacation? Nazi-Germany, probably), so Klaus is getting out early.

Klaus nearly jumps for joy as the old door creaks open and a crack of light chases away a couple of spirits (the old guy's constant whine was definitely getting annoying. Get over yourself, at least one limb is better than none).

"Father?" Klaus croaks, covering his eyes a little and attempting to ignore the child bawling on his right.

Reginald doesn't glance up; he just stares at his watch for another ten seconds.

"Alright, Number Four. Time's up for now. Any improvement?" Reginald orders-slash-asks.

“Yes, sir, the voices were much quieter,” he lies over the sound of a wailing toddler.

“Good. Off to bed with you.”

Klaus zombie-walks to the bedroom hallway and knocks aggressively on Vanya’s door (this has turned into a routine for him: eat with Vanya, annoy Five, pester Diego, make fun of Luther and Allison, and then hang out with Ben for the remaining time; though, he hasn’t seen Ben today, so he may just chill with his favorite sister).

“Come in!” Vanya’s pixie-like voice responds.

Klaus tries not to scoff at the minuscule room that his poor sister has to deal with.

“Oh, Klaus!” Vanya’s face lights up with a thousand watts as she observed him carefully, “You’re out early.”

“Yeah baby, dad’s going out for ‘business’, whatever that means. Need help?” He points to the sheet music strewn across the beige carpet.

“It’s okay,” Vanya waves him off, “We can just head to the kitchen.”

“Suit yourself, sister V.”

Once they reach the kitchen, Klaus perches in his usual spot: the countertop with his legs hanging off and banging obnoxiously, and Vanya gets to work on today’s special sandwich.

She pulls out every ingredient possible form the cupboard. They’ve been experimenting with peppers and tomatoes recently, but it’s rare that Klaus can stomach vegetables. They know for sure that cucumbers are acceptable, but not alone, as the taste is too bland.

Klaus pulls a bottle of gold nail polish from his pocket and starts on his pinkie while Vanya carefully applies each ingredient to his dinner.

After he’s done two coats on right hand and three on the left, Vanya chirps “Done!” and presents the least appetizing thing Klaus has ever seen.

(But, Klaus survived the scallops and chocolate sauce, so this is nothing).

“Okie dokie, sis. What have we got here?” he pulls off the top piece of bread.

“I started safe with the cucumbers,” Vanya points at the bottom layer.

“Good decision. Mayonnaise?” He scrunches his nose at the pungent smell.

She shrugs, “You sort of liked it with the vinegar last time. Speaking of which...”

She flips over the bread, revealing how soggy it appears to be.

Trying not to gag, Klaus gives her a thumbs up. 

“I also included a secret ingredient.”

“Yippee,” Klaus gulps, absolutely one-hundred percent sure he will be throwing up today.

There’s a beat of silence as Klaus stares down his sandwich.

“Are you going to at least try it?” Vanya asks with her doe eyes.

“Curse you,” Klaus bites out, picking up the amalgamation, “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.”

He takes a bite.

“Holy shit.”

Vanya shakes her head, “It’s okay. That’s another fail. I was thinking of trying Brussels spr—“

“No,” Klaus mumbles suddenly, amazed at the taste in his mouth.

He looks up at her through his painted eyelashes

“This is delicious.”

“Really?!” Vanya gapes.

Klaus nods enthusiastically, wolfing down another bite. He and Vanya squeal with excitement (and even embrace a few times in their celebration).

From this day forth, Vanya makes Klaus what she calls the Cucumber Mayonnaise Extravaganza.

It’s only during the apocalypse, when tensions are high and sandwiches are scarce, that he asks Vanya what that secret ingredient was.

She simply winks

 

***

 

**MARSHMALLOW AND PEANUT BUTTER**

 

Number Five is five the first time Vanya makes him a sandwich.

It's not anything dramatic or out-of-place. Five simply trots into his room and finds dinner on his nightstand. And, using his Five-ish telepathy, he immediately knows exactly who put it there (his secret? Vanya's the only one who likes using the yellow-rimmed plates. Ben and Klaus prefer blue. Luther and Allison share the reds. Diego switches, but the likeliness of him making Five a sandwich is painfully small. In conclusion, it was Seven).

He’s six the first time Vanya makes him a sandwich and he catches her in the act.

She stops like a deer in headlights, nearly dropping the knife (he’s been there for a while and she hadn’t noticed until now). He moves past her to snatch an apple juice box from the fridge. By the time he makes his way into the living room, the sandwich is done, and he teleports to the counter hungrily. Vanya nods at him, and he nods back (he’s never been one for affection, but it’s the closest to a ‘thank you’ that she’ll get right now).

He’s seven the first time he catches Vanya leaving the sandwich in his room.

She’s not as shocked as the was the one time in the kitchen, but her gasp is amusing nonetheless. She doesn’t say a word, but this time, Vanya leaves more than just a sandwich. _The Shining_ soon becomes Five’s favorite book. Stephen King also becomes the easiest topic for the the two siblings to discuss (Vanya’s passion for the horror writing genre is astounding, and the reading level is far above a normal seven-year-old’s; Five is impressed).

He’s eight the first time Vanya eats with him.

It’s almost like a normal day (he sees Vanya about half of the time she comes to give him dinner), except she lingers for a little longer than usual. He doesn’t need to invite her—she just crouches into the chair next to his desk, flipping through the pages of _Carrie_ , her personal favorite King novel. Five neither protests nor comments, and this exchange morphs into the norm for the next few years.

Five is ten when he eats his last sandwich for a while, and in his fifties when he tastes the sweet marshmallows again.

On that day, he crashes through the portal to lock eyes with his siblings’ startlingly adult gazes, and his first thought is to head to the kitchen.

There’s already a sandwich on the counter.

(Later, Pogo tells him: “Whenever she’s here, she makes a sandwich and leaves it for you”).

 

***

 

**GRILLED CHEESE**

 

Ben finds great comfort in warmth.

The monsters under his skin run cold like sub-zero snakes, and they're almost easier to handle when he's wrapped up next to the fireplace. (Klaus and him have always bundled up together there—the mausoleum is freezing too).

As of right now, Ben's shivering in his very core.

This time, dad brings him to a remote location in the forest. Ben thinks it's because no one can see or hear him here. The trees tower over his body menacingly, their bare branches sticking out to impale the monsters (Ben hopes they will. He dreams about that sometimes—a stray tendril catching on something sharp and ripping out for good).

"I will be back in an hour, Number Six," Reginald glances at his watch and walks away stiffly, stepping into the car with a crunch of the dead leaves. "Don't venture outside the parameters."

Ha. As if he can control where the monsters roam.

"Yes, father," he mutters the practiced response, closing his eyes until the rumble of the car motor dissipates.

Then, he lets go.

For a moment, the trees still. The wind halts in a calm-before-the-storm way, swirling to a halt at Ben's feet.

He blacks out after third tendril rips through his skin .

When he comes to, his clothes are in tatters and Reginald hovers over him with his notebook in hand.

"Acceptable, Number Six," Reginald dully observes the wreckage of splinters and overturned dirt, "But you need to work a more on exercising control, or we'll have to resort to other methods of bringing out the beasts."

Vague memories of condensed lightning and criss-crossing red shoot through his mind, eliciting tremors in his chest.

"Yes, father," Ben wraps his arms around his naked body.

Reginald fits in response, scribbling one last note in his notebook before snapping it shut with one hand.

“Off to bed.”

Ben passes out on the couch and wakes up to the sound of Vanya’s tentative footsteps.

She hands him a grilled cheese and he doesn’t have the energy to question it.

The warmth of the bread and cheese comforts him immensely, and the monsters almost feel sated (if only for a while).

She has a grilled cheese too, but hardly nibbles at it. When Ben’s traitorous stomach rumbles, she offers it to him.

“What about you?” Ben speaks for the first time in what feels like years.

Vanya chuckles softly, “Truth is, I hate sandwiches. I just eat them with you guys.”

Ben hesitates but decides to take her peace offering.

“Thanks.”

Vanya grins and says, “Welcome,” taking her her cue to leave as Klaus prances in, yelling, “Benny boy, you will not believe what I just got stuck up my nose!”

“Bye,” Ben waves.

Klaus and him cuddle up together on the couch, attempting to remove a baby-doll head from number Four’s nostril.

In the kitchen, away from the view of everyone else, Vanya munches on an apple, ready to deliver her final sandwich of the day (Luther and Allison have theirs in their rooms, Five is eating his outside, Klaus devoured his, and Ben has his right now).

She leaves the plate outside Reginald’s door.

She’s not sure if he ever takes them, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> can you tell that I dislike Allison


End file.
